


Ave Maria

by DerKnochenbrecher



Category: Trinity Blood
Genre: Christianity as Aesthetic, M/M, Self-indulgent fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:21:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7238962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerKnochenbrecher/pseuds/DerKnochenbrecher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Petros finds Alessandro alone and crying one night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ave Maria

If there was one thing Petros had been left with after so many years of warring with nocturnal adversaries, it was a lingering paranoia about what was hiding in the dark. It was what drove him to wander the Vatican halls at night, in full armour and with the Screamer at his side, even though peace had been signed years ago. He had never been able to fully believe that all Methuselah would cease their centuries-long war on humanity simply because their Augusta Vladika had said it would be so.

 

But this night, at least, the halls were quiet. Compline had ended hours ago, and there was still plenty of time until dawn. Even that, though, couldn’t impress upon Petros the need for sleep.

 

He didn’t realise where he was going until he found himself near the Papal Chambers. He immediately endeavoured to soften his footsteps so that His Holiness would not find himself woken up by the noise.

 

He hesitated, then stopped at the Pope’s door. He stood momentarily at attention before he allowed himself to relax slightly. Even just standing there, guarding the precious man beyond, was enough. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

 

In the calm and silence, he realised he could hear a voice, praying.

 

_“Dominus tecum, benedicta tu in mulieribus…”_

 

Petros frowned. Perhaps His Holiness wasn’t asleep at all.

 

_“Sancta Maria… Mater Dei, ora… ora pro nobis…”_

The familiar words were hesitant, punctuated with something like sobs that stabbed at Petros’ heart. He had his fist raised to knock at the door before he’d fully thought it through. But now that he had heard it, he couldn’t ignore Alessandro’s pain. He had sworn to do whatever he could to save His Holiness, and this as part of it.

 

_“… Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae.”_

Petros knocked at the door. Gently, so as to not startle Alessandro.

 

_“… Amen._ Yes? Wh-who is it?”

 

He immediately felt his back straighten as he proclaimed, “It is I, Brother Petros, Your Holiness. May I enter?”

 

“Oh, Brother Petros…? Um, yes. Come in?”

 

His voice was soft and unsure. Petros’s heart gave another painful twinge, and he pushed open the door.

 

Alessandro was kneeling by his window, bathed in moonlight. There was something about his posture that made even the simple silk nightshirt he wore look too big. He clutched at a pearl rosary, and looked up at Petros with red-rimmed eyes.

 

Petros fell to his knees next to him. His poleyns clanged against the stone floor, but he barely registered it, even when Alessandro flinched from the noise.

 

“What is wrong, Your Holiness?” Petros demanded. “Has someone caused you harm? Name them!”

 

“N-no, it’s not that…” Alessandro replied. “There’s nothing wrong…”

 

Petros reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly.

 

“Name what I can do for you, Your Holiness, and it shall be done!”

 

“Please, Petros – you’re hurting my hand.”

 

Petros let go of Alessandro’s hand like it had burned him. His words nearly had.

 

“Your – Holiness, I’m sorry, I…!” 

 

Alessandro looked away, the circles around his eyes more pronounced than ever. He looked as though he hadn’t been sleeping well for quite some time, and his face grew only more drawn. Petros realised that in his eagerness, he’d only managed to scare him more.

 

He took a breath to steel himself. Gentleness had never been in his nature, even though he knew it was what Alessandro needed more than anything.

 

He reached out again, and took Alessandro’s hand as softly as he could.

 

“I’m sorry, Your Holiness,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I did not mean to startle you. But you have been crying – please, if there’s anything I can do to help…”

 

He covered Alessandro’s hand with his other one. He wished he could feel his skin – and knew from that thought alone that it was better than a layer of cloth stood between them.

 

Alessandro relaxed at the change in his voice and demeanour, and Petros’ stomach sunk at the realization that he had unnerved him so much.

 

“Please, My Lord…”  He looked into his eyes, wanting to beg for forgiveness but not wanting to say anything lest he upset Alessandro more.

 

“I suppose… there is something…”

 

“Name it.”

 

Alessandro looked away, his pale cheeks reddening beneath his freckles.

 

“I… would you spend the night with me?” he asked.

 

Petros blinked, not sure he had heard Alessandro correctly. And then, as he realised the implications, Alessandro blushed further.

 

“N-no, I meant –“ He looked away, fiddling with the rosary pearls. “It’s just that… my rooms are so big, and they’re empty and quiet… And I don’t want to be alone.”

 

It was a strange reversal of how he normally found everything too loud, too crowded. But as Petros glanced around the room, he realised that wasn’t quite how Alessandro had meant it. Even if it was as beautiful and elegant as befitted the Servant of God, there was something about the moonlight that made the room feel more like a museum than a place that was lived in. Only the bed with its rumpled sheets felt real.

 

“Will you sleep if I stay?”

 

Alessandro nodded. “I was awake because I was worried… but I – I think, if you’re here…”

 

“All right. Than if that is what Your Holiness wishes, I have no choice.”

 

Alessandro’s smile was almost heartbreaking. “Thank you, Brother Petros. And… Could – could I ask one more thing from you?”

 

Petros was pretty sure that there was nothing he could ask just then that Petros could refuse. “Anything, Your Holiness.”

 

Alessandro shivered, like he was afraid of what he was saying. “Could you… call me Alec?”

 

Petros’ heart skipped a beat at the softly-spoken request.

 

“Are you sure –? But, Your Holiness, to speak to you so personably would –“

 

“Please.”

 

Petros let out the breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. “If it would please you, then… I will, Alec.”

 

The smile Alessandro gave him was so heart-wrenching that Petros no longer cared what would happen if anyone ever found out about this conversation – or this night.

 

Alessandro reached out with his free hand and put it against Petros’ chest plate. He let it linger there for a few moments as he looked at Petros. Petros didn’t let himself begin to image what Alessandro may have been thinking. He hoped the Pope wouldn’t notice the thudding of his heart that seemed to be all Petros could hear just then. His heart beat even more rapidly as he imagined Alessandro reaching up further, that gentle hand touching his jaw…

 

Instead, Alessandro pulled back.

 

“W-we should go to bed,” he whispered.

 

“Yes,” Petros managed. “You must wake early, after all.”

 

It was a weak line, but Alessandro seemed to accept it. He turned, hiding his face, and placed the rosary on the table by his bed. He pulled back the blankets and Petros realised that he was to follow.

 

Petros hesitated, and not just because of what could happen if someone found him in the same bed as the Pope. If he were to do what Alessandro asked of him, he would have to remove his armour. That paranoia still lingered, a constant worry that he would be attacked.

 

Practicality – and the desire to see Alessandro happy – won out. He told himself that if there was no other alternative, he could use his own body to protect the Pope. That was what he was meant to do, after all. He started removing his armour.

 

He took off his vambraces and folded the red and gold tunic on top of it before removing his greaves and pleyns, laying each down as quietly as he could. He reached for the buckles that kept his cuirass together. Something brushed his neck and he froze.

 

“I’m always worried about your hair,” Alessandro said, gathering Petros’ hair together. “Every time I see you in your armour, I worry your hair will get caught…”

 

“I’m sorry you cause you concern, You- Alec.” Petros couldn’t bring himself to look directly at him. He wasn’t sure how he would react if he did see him. “But as you can see, it’s fine.”

 

“Please. Let me worry about you, even if it’s over something this… mundane…” He didn’t let go of Petros’ hair, holding just above his neck.

 

“I… Yes,” Petros replied. “Thank you.”

 

He removed the cuirass and then the leather coat he had been wearing beneath it. Only then did Alessandro release him. In amid the splendour of the papal chamber, his armour – polished and well-kept though it was – looked coarse and damaged. He wondered if he would look just as out of place in Alessandro’s bed.

 

The pounding in his chest seemed to have returned.

 

“Oh,” Alessandro said. “Wait a moment…”

 

He opened a drawer, and a moment later Petros felt his hands pulling his hair back once more. He froze as Alessandro began to run the brush through his hair.

 

“My lady sister would let me do this sometimes,” Alessandro said. His voice was hesitant compared to the rhythm of the brush. “When I was younger, sometimes she would let me brush her hair if she was feeling stressed. It helped me, too.”

 

He must miss her. Alessandro and the Cardinal de Sforza may not have been the closest of siblings, but her death had still affected him deeply. And still did, it seemed.

 

Petros felt he should say something, but he couldn’t find the words. He stayed silent as Alessandro put down the brush and divided his hair into three, and braided it. He let himself lean into the gentle movements and the soft brushes of Alessandro’s fingertips, and all too soon they were gone.

 

“Oh, I don’t have an elastic or anything…”

 

“Tha- that’s quite alright!” Petros said. He caught himself at the last minute so his voice didn’t grow too loud. “This is more than acceptable…!”

 

He turned around, and caught Alessandro’s smile. Moonlight was a poor way to see his face, but this was the only way Petros could see him this happy, this carefree, then he would take it.

 

“Good,” Alessandro said. “Thank you, Petros.”

 

Petros was sure he would have a heart attack if Alessandro kept addressing him by name.

 

“Let’s go to bed,” he said. His voice was caught in his throat again.

 

“Yes,” Alessandro replied. There was a rustle as he laid down and pulled the blankets over himself.

 

Petros ran a hand along the edge of the blanket to make sure it was all in place. He was unable to stop his fingers from lingering on Alessandro’s shoulder, but he pulled away as quickly as he could.

 

He lay down on top of the blankets next to him. Perhaps, if Alessandro continued to make such requests of him, than Petros would have no choice to find the courage to lay among the covers with him. But he could not on his own.

 

“Goodnight, Petros,” Alessandro whispered.

 

“Sleep well – Alec,” Petros replied. And, in a moment of weakness, he reached out and brushed Alessandro’s cheek. “Goodnight.”

 

Alessandro’s eyes fluttered closed, lashes casting long shadows. He turned onto his side, towards Petros, and within moments his breathing evened out. He may not have been asleep yet, but he would be soon.

 

Petros told himself that he would stay awake. He was, after all, here as a guard – or so he told himself. But it was difficult. Alessandro looked so calm and comfortable, his freckles dark against skin turned white by the moon. It was only when ten minutes or so had passed without Alessandro moving that Petros allowed himself to reach out.

 

He put a hand against Alessandro’s shoulder, lingering as long as he could before gently brushing his hand against his cheek. Part of Petros wanted to kiss him.

 

Alessandro had been so open with him that night, and Petros hoped he had done the same in return. He wished that they could do that more often – act without acting, being only who they were without needing to be aware of the roles they played. But Alessandro was the Pope, the head of the Vatican and guide and beacon for all mankind as God’s representative, and Petros was merely his knight.

 

He hoped God would forgive these transgressions, if only for a night.

 

He took his hand back. He was growing more tired by the minute and knew he would eventually fall asleep, if only for a short nap.

 

He settled against the pillow, along with the thought that, divine forgiveness aside, they had acts to fulfill in the earthly realm. They could not change that, and he was sure that Alessandro knew this too. He was smarter than almost anyone gave him credit for, after all.

 

But, Petros thought. As long as Alec was happy, then he would be happy as well. It was part of the oath he’d take in some ways, after all. He’d sworn he’d protect the Pope’s life – and Petros considered happiness a part of that life.

 

He reached out to touch his shoulder again, and hoped that Alec wouldn’t mind.


End file.
